


The Arsonist's Tale

by Vanemis



Series: The Book of Eden [2]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Related to coffee bullets and lady luck, Side Story, Suicidal Thoughts, Work In Progress, post-collapse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-09-24 00:48:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20349595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanemis/pseuds/Vanemis
Summary: Set just after the shattering events of chapter 19 of Coffee, Bullets, and Lady Luck, Sharky must move on from the cosy life he'd just begun to settle in with Rook and the Seeds. This is the story of his difficult life during the time he was missing, to the point of his return home.Can be read as a stand-alone but context is always great.





	1. Two Bullets

**Author's Note:**

> This will carry on Sharky's untold story from the moment he leaves the ranch in chapters 19/20 to the point of his return. There was no space to put this alongside the original work, so it gets its own new post. 
> 
> For those who have not read Coffee, Bullets, and Lady Luck- Please do! It's my best work and I am so proud of it. It will also give you context for this story and the characters set up.  
Read the original right here: 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/16775344?view_full_work=true 
> 
> For those who can't be arsed, the premise is this: Rook survived the Collapse with Joseph, and Sharky lived with John. They find each other and Rook and Joe fall in love over time. Sharky is jealous and tells Rook that he loves him too, only for Rook to tell Joseph out of honesty and guilt. It gets Sharky thrown out and he's forced to stay away.  
That's pretty much the very rough idea, but do give the main story a read too!!

The lights of the ranch in the rear view were blurred by his tears.  Sharky forced himself to look away, to focus on the road so that he didn’t end up in a snowy ditch. He wasn’t tempted to die from frostbite. 

He drove to the only place he felt safe, gravel and rocks kicking up into the under carriage as he turned onto dirt roads. It was too dark to see beyond the headlights, the fog from the lake too thick to risk accelerating.  Sharky couldn’t remember how long it had taken him to reach the island, to head up the slope between the pines and come to a stop before the bunker doors. It all passed in a blink, his thoughts only focused on one thing; how stupid he was. 

He cut the engine and grabbed his bag, barely any belongings. There wasn’t much to take from the ranch so he packed it all up, the rest of his life, into one rucksack and pulled it over his shoulder. The sound of the door shutting was deafening in the empty woods, only accompanied by his shoes crunching the snow beneath. Even the wind was still, barely rustling the leaves. 

It was still too quiet. He missed hearing the wild dogs and the owls at night when he stayed up till dawn, high and bored. 

The metal of the bunker was painfully cold as he grasped the handle, pulling the heavy steel to the side. The stairs were bathed in red from a single bulb and the corridor beyond still a mess from when they’d lived here. What a good time that had been. 

Stepping down inside,  Sharky pulled the door shut after him and inhaled deeply. He didn’t exhale until his lungs burned. It still smelled the same, like citrus and dust and canned food. The ventilation still chugged noisily and the air could never warm up, even with the old heating system the old man had built in. He shivered as he walked the corridors, glancing into the rooms that sat in darkness. The bubbles from the tank made  Sharky turn the light on, just to check if the fish were alive. They wouldn’t be, no one had been here for ages-

Sharky squinted at the bright bulb and the very alive fish swimming between the overgrown plants. The light was hurting his eyes too much so he switched off again, sighing in relief at the dim red light. 

The surveillance room was shut, not that  Sharky cared what the monitors would show. It was all the same depressing grey view and  Sharky was plainly too tired to deal with any more depressing shit. He wandered towards the bedroom, going to the smallest one and flicking on the soft bulb. 

“Holy shit!” He yelled, startling  awake the couple in the bed. Stumbling backwards out of the room, he mumbled apologies until he was in the safety of the medical room. 

“ Sharky ?” Nick called out, sleepily searching for him and slumping one shoulder against the doorframe. “The Hell are you doing here?”

Sitting back on the adjustable bed,  Sharky shoved his face into his hands. “I could ask the same, this is my place.”

“No one’s been here for weeks but us. Are you okay?”

Letting out a cynical laugh,  Sharky shook his head and pulled off his cap. “Uh, no, nope. Not really. Look, I’m sorry about walking in on you guys. I just wanted a place to crash and I didn’t realise someone would be here.”

Behind Nick, the door opened and Kim joined her husband. She wrapped her nightgown tightly around her to fight the chill and  Sharky tried not to stare at her peaked nipples. He averted his eyes before he had another reason to beat himself up, the level of self-loathing rising to danger red faster than he could control himself. 

“It’s alright, you just scared us. Look, the room next door is free. We moved our stuff in there but the beds are okay,” Nick insisted, coming closer so he could encourage  Sharky to move. They’d never spoken more than a few times in town, just out politeness.

“Yeah, thanks. Sorry to bother you guys.”  Sharky stood and moved past Kim, straight to the second bedroom where Joseph and John had once slept. He hovered by the frame. 

“Do you need anything? Food or water, maybe.”

“Nah, just some sleep. I’ll see you guys in the morning.”  Sharky couldn’t even meet Nick’s eyes anymore as he shut the door and went straight to the bed. The only light came from the other room, filtering beneath the door and through the tiny window.

Kim’s voice was quiet but he still heard, “What do we do about him?”

It didn’t  matter if he was bothering them or if he’d ruined what peace they had.  Sharky wasn’t planning on sticking around.

He dumped his bag on the floor beside one of the beds and kicked off his shoes, yanking off his jacket hard enough to tear some of the threads in one shoulder. Oh well. He really couldn’t give a shit. His hoodie was fine so he slept in that, nose buried in the scent of John’s old soap. 

He probably soaked the pillow in more tears than he was willing to admit, clutching onto it as he tried to muffle his sobs so the Ryes couldn’t hear him. As much as  Sharky wanted to scream and throw things at the concrete walls, he respected them enough to stay silent. Plus he didn’t need to give anyone else more reasons to hate him.

It was well into the mid-morning when  Sharky woke up, dazed and surprised to find himself in such a small bed. Glancing around, the memories rac ed and punch ed him  straight in the stomach , forcing  Sharky’s throat to clamp shut and his eyes to blur immediately. This time he sobbed loudly, a brutal, broken sound that would’ve brought out his uncle’s belt.

Time had no meaning to him, lost in the haze of Rook’s perfection and Joseph’s wrath. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, replaying it unwillingly over and over again. Making him sick to his stomach, more so than when he’d captured John.

Sharky was in the middle of shoving stuff into his bag when Nick knocked on his door. He got up to answer it, reluctant to see anyone but unable to pretend no one was there. They hadn’t kicked him out yet.

“Hey man, you doing alright?” Nick had that kind, over-protective look in his eyes, and he’d lowered his usual jovial tone. Kim wasn’t with him for once.

Sharky shrugged and looked back over his shoulder to his bag. “I’m fine. Just packing. I need to get going.”

“Oh, okay then. Where are you off to?”

He shrugged again. “ Dunno . I’m not picky.”

“Right, well, let us know when you leave so we can say goodbye. If you need anything, we can spare a couple cans. It  ain’t much but-”

Sharky held up his hand. “It’s cool. You guys need it more than I do.”

Nick nodded slowly, reluctant to let anyone just wander out into the wasteland with no supplies. “Alright, it’s your choice. You can always rely on us if you need anything, man.”

“Thanks. Appreciate it.”  Sharky inclined his head and Nick took that as his cue to leave, patting the frame with a sad smile. Just because they were barely acquaintances didn’t mean that Nick didn’t care in some way, and  Sharky had fought beside Rook just like everyone else and that meant a great deal to the pilot.

Turning back to his belongings,  Sharky waited a moment until he heard Nick close to the kitchen. He stashed his bag into the workshop, just beneath the table. Everything was still in the same place, the Ryes didn’t care for old bullet casings and hammers. It was unlikely that they’d touch his things, and he really wanted it where someone he loved might find it. 

Making sure he had his lighter in his hoodie, he threw his jacket on and shoved his cap low on his head. They’d surely catch him leaving so he moved fast, leaning into the kitchen with a fake smile.

“Hey, I  gotta head off. Thanks for letting me stay a bit. You both be safe okay.”  Sharky left no room for discussion, barely staying in place long enough to hear twin goodbyes from the confused couple as they fed their baby breakfast.

He jogged up the stairs and opened one bunker door, shutting it after him quickly just in case one of them followed him. It was stupid, they didn’t care about what he was up to or what he was planning. He’d dropped in and disappeared too soon for either of them to give a shit. The only thing they had in common was-

No.

He wasn’t even going to think the name, let alone picture the beautiful officer. 

Deep breaths, that’s what he needed. That’s what the prison counsellor had told him to do when he was on the verge of a breakdown or feeling that urge to burn things.

In and out.

Inhale, hold, exhale. Count to ten. All that zen and meditation crap that he was forced to sit through before they let him out on parole. 

Climbing into the driver’s seat, he found himself unable to start the engine. His eyes were glued to the bunker doors, the displaced snow and rusted metal.

He’ll never forget the day he and John came here, cold and scared and bitter with each other. That bubbling joy he’d felt walking up the path knowing his best friend was alive and so close. The look on John’s face when they’d heard the radio transmission that brought them together so long ago; pure relief and that lingering doubt that they couldn’t really celebrate just yet, not until they were face to face.

It was over now. That joy was gone, stomped into the dirt and left to rot like everything else in Hope. 

He put the car into reverse, carefully heading back down the path until he could turn and head back to the main road. It was automatic to drive to  Hurk’s old place, even if they’d just been there.

There was just more snow than before on the roof. He wandered through the empty house, smiling sadly to himself at all the memories he’d made, the years spent being raised in this house. One of the kitchen walls was cut into each year to mark his and  Hurk’s heights, there were permanent marker stains in the corner by the tv when  Hurk had tried to draw on the wallpaper when he was five. Burn marks on the couch from Senior’s cigars when he fell asleep in the afternoon. The clock on the mantle that  Sharky had super-glued back together after he’d nerfed it and it had broken on the floorboards; he never got yelled at for that one but there was no doubt Adelaide knew.

Climbing up to the first floor, he stopped in  Hurk’s room. When he’d lived here, he’d had his own bed beneath the window. No one had painted over the drawings he’d made on the walls even though all his stuff was long gone. 

There was nothing to keep. His school work was well below average, he’d never competed in any sports, hell he might as well have never existed in school. It surely got him nowhere, stuck in the same county he’d been forced to live in since his mom died. 

He sat down on  Hurk’s bed and fought the desperation to curl up and cry. The tears were there, welling up in his stinging eyes, but  Hurk would only tell him to stop being a baby about it. 

“Never thought I’d be the last man standing,”  Sharky mumbled to the dusty air, laying on his back to stare at the old posters. He’d jerked off to those supermodels so often it was unreal. “It’s just you and me now, Roxy.”

His hand reached up to the necklace he’d stolen from  Hurk’s bedpost. It belonged to some drug lord on some island in the Pacific apparently, who got killed by one of  Hurk’s vacation friends, who then gave it to  Hurk as a keepsake.  Hurk never quite knew if the story was true, he hadn’t been there to witness the fight, but he’d sure bragged about that trip for a long time.

“Wish you were here, man. You’d know just what to say.”

Sharky rolled over to pinch a nice photograph off the wall, one where  Hurk was grinning and posing with some guy in a yellow and blue jacket. He turned it over and chuckled. 

Tat Bros 4 Life.

That photo would have to do. It was so nice to see him happy. 

He carefully put in one of the jacket pockets and got up, patting the bed with a tense smile as he headed back down to his car. He had one more place to visit. 

\---

The trailer park looked just as awful as it always did, the wind whistling loudly on the hill top. The remains of cars piled to one side had always added a certain touch to the already crumbling trailers full of meth heads, a lovely aesthetic that made him want to get a tetanus shot just from looking around. 

His old trailer was still somewhat intact, the door still reinforced against the  Peggies . He saw the handcuffs on the table first, the ones he’d used to keep John in place, crusted with old blood.  Sharky had been so proud of himself in the moment, capturing a Seed. That pride had soured to disgust, to self-loathing, but now he was grateful he’d saved John from the Collapse. From anyone who wouldn’t have spared his life. If he hadn’t been there, John would certainly be a corpse.

In his room was a stash of weed that he hunted down with a mission, lighting up a blunt with expert hands. The instant rush and relief burned down his throat, his body relaxing with each drag until he was left with a tiny stub between his lips. 

One last high. That’s all he wanted. He left the bag out on the side, out of view of the window in case someone got curious one day. Still, it was going to be a treat for whoever found it. 

His room was a mess but he couldn’t be fucked to fix it. Instead, he went to the kitchen and reached above the ancient fridge to grab a dusty box. It felt heavier than he remembered but it had been given to him so long ago.

Tucking the box under his arm,  Sharky grabbed what little whiskey he had left in the cupboard and took it outside. He climbed up the ladder on the side of the trailer, up to the roof where he brushed snow off a lawn chair. It was freezing cold as the water seeped through his jeans but that wouldn’t matter for long.

The box sat in his lap as he took a long gulp, wincing at the burn, and once he’d set the bottle aside, he finally opened the box.

It was the only thing he could do. He’d been so stupid, trying so hard to be worthy of someone who was too far above to reach. He’d fucked it up for everyone. His parents were right; he was a mistake, a burden on people, no one would ever want him. 

Those words had cut so deep and never healed, uttered when he was still single digits and repeated long until the fights at home ended abruptly.  Sharky realised now that they’d been so right, like divination. 

He pulled out the photograph and stared at his cousin, at the man he wished he could’ve been but never even came close. 

“You did so much,  Cuz . You really knew how to live. Well, I don’t. I never was good at fitting in, it was always you who made everybody proud.” 

He set down the photo against the lid of the box and took out the revolver from its velvet case, opening up the chamber and inserting the last couple bullets his grandfather had passed on to him. He pushed the chamber back in place and drew back the safety. As a kid, he’d messed around with the other bullets, firing them into the sky pretending to be some outlaw.

“Wherever you are now, man, you’re better off without me. Everyone else sure is.”

He positioned the barrel just beneath his jaw, his hand trembling so bad he had to use both to keep it there. The metal was so fucking cold as he swallowed past the lump in his throat.

He’d been in this position, with a gun to his head, far too many times. Each fuck up piling up until he was drowning in his mistakes. It was always his fault.

“Mom, Dad- wherever you guys are now, I really  really wish I wasn’t your son.” 

It was over, even if  Sharky wasn’t truly ready. If only he’d just pulled that trigger when he was fifteen, he would’ve never dealt with seeing his mom bleed to death in her room. If he’d only been brave enough when he was twenty-two, he never would’ve caused that wildfire in the mountains and killed that couple hiking. If he hadn’t been such a pussy when he was thirty-three, he wouldn’t have gone to jail for that cam site and a few extra hundreds that ended up paying his fine. If only he’d just fucking ended it all before he was thirty-seven, he never would’ve ruined Rook’s life. Or John’s. Or anyone else who ever so much as gave him a second look, even if it was to judge his usefulness. 

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

Sharky’s finger rested on the trigger, his entire body shivering from the cold and the frightening reality of his life. He just wanted it to end, he wanted to stop being such a burden on others.

“Fuck, just fucking do it, you pussy!” He yelled at himself, cursing out to the falling snow. “Please, just let it end. God, I’m begging you.” Leaning forward to scream, the box clattering to the floor,  Sharky felt something fall out of his pocket.

Rook’s lighter.

Their initials carved crudely into the metal and shining up at him like it was a sign. 

Sharky put the gun down in his lap to pick up the lighter, only to squeeze the trigger. The shot was deafening, startling  Sharky until pain burst in his leg. He looked down, expecting to see a bloody hole in his thigh but the pain came from the kickback of the revolver smacking straight into the meat. He’d almost shot himself.

His brain barely had the thought to put the safety back on before he threw the gun down on the floor. He’d almost fucking shot himself. Holy shit.

“Holy shit.”

He glanced up to the sky, as if God was going to come through the grey clouds and slap him in the face for his stupidity.  Sharky wasn’t religious, far from it, but he nodded up.

“Got it, man.”

The photo was pressed against his heart, beating erratically as he fought to keep his stomach from  emptying itself . He washed down the tremors with more whiskey, spluttering some as he gagged in his rush. 

New plan. He was going to find  Hurk , somehow. He had to be  alive . This was  Hurkules . The man would just call the apocalypse another holiday break. 

Sharky grabbed what little clothes he had in his home down the hill, packing them all into his car as he started planning how he would escape the county. The tunnels were sealed and there were no planes or helicopters. He’d just have to climb his way out. He had to.  Hurk was out there waiting for him, and maybe so was Adelaide. God, what he’d give to see her again.

He left the revolver on the top of the fridge where it belonged. He had better things to do with his life. 


	2. Kill Count

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to start splitting this story between what Sharky is currently doing, and the events that went unspoken before the Collapse and the Reaping. So half present day, half flashbacks. I want to properly tell his story!
> 
> Sorry about the wait for chapters, it's been a month *oops* but I've got an outline for the plot.

The tunnels were completely caved in. There was no way of clearing the chunks of concrete and rock without some explosives or a digger, neither of which were at  Sharky’s disposal. It left him one option: going over the mountains.

Despite having hiked and climbed his way around the Henbane, he’d never once tried to tackle the snowy peaks. They were imposing and frightening to admire up close, and the freezing cold air made it harder to grip the rocks as he forced himself up the safer-looking inclines.  Sharky lost track of how many times he looked back over his shoulder, the valley growing smaller and smaller. 

When he reached a platform, sandwiched between two protruding rocks, he realised that he would have to sleep in the cold. The sun was long gone, the only light coming from a torch clipped to his jacket and shining off the snow. Trying to scale down the other side, let alone find a good place to start the descent was too risky. He’d sooner lock himself in a cage with a Judge than stumble for footing on the slippery rocks in the dark.

He had to stop. God knows how long it would take to get over to the other side. The tunnel was nearly  a mile  long but that was a direct route punched through. 

There was nothing to burn for warmth either, much to his dismay. The trees were far down below in the valley and he wasn’t going back to cut some down, not that he had an axe. It was dawning quickly that  Sharky had planned badly.

He’d brought spare clothes and a blanket, his lighter and whatever junk he’d forgotten to clear out of his old rucksack. Everything else he owned was back home. Except it wasn’t home now. Not anymore, he’d made sure of that. 

Curling up against a slight groove in the rockface,  Sharky tried to make himself comfortable. He’d never liked sleeping under the stars, certainly not when the cold, harsh air was whistling through the passages  noisily.

He had no way of tracking time but he felt like an hour had passed before his eyes could close. Dry, this time. Maybe because the wind was preventing him from crying, blowing miserably in his face as he tried to hide against the bag and the rocks.

That’s when he heard the cracking boom of thunder.

Like a switch had been flicked without care for him or his situation, the rain came down like all of the water in the clouds decided to fall like a blanket. The overhang of the rock protected him from the worst, and the drops ran off down the slopes he’d climbed earlier. But it was colder and rubbing his arms made no difference as he screwed his eyes shut and begged for just a few hours of sleep, anything to ignore the grave he’d dug.

When he woke  some time around dawn,  Sharky groaned in pain. His back and legs were stiff as a corpse and he wanted nothing more than to crawl back to his bed. But there had to be something for him on the other side, a new life, a new family maybe, and his cousin. That’s what convinced him to unravel himself from the tiny ball he’d curled up into, stretching and hissing as he fought to stand and shoulder the bag.

He’d brought a wheat bar and in hindsight,  Sharky thoroughly regretted not taking the cans from the Ryes. Even if they needed it too,  Sharky now had a reason to eat. The bar was eaten in three bites, only because he took his time, and it did nothing to fill the hunger growling at his insides. 

The rain had melted some of the snow and that honestly made it worse. Because the night air had started turning the puddles to ice and his shoes had no grip. He slipped more than once, tumbling down as he lost footing. But he could see the end of the tunnel in the distance, the brick entrance that stood out through the pines on the steep slopes.

It was lunchtime when he sat down for a break, his legs and feet aching. For months, he hadn’t had to run around after  Peggies and his cardio had suffered a toll. Still, the end was in sight and it brought him relief. 

There was nothing to eat. 

He sat in quiet until his legs stopped pulsing with pain and then he stood up and made it to the tunnel. That side wasn’t caved in but the tunnel was just darkness, barely any sun coming through the thick grey clouds  as rain began to pour down again. The wires still ran along the walls but without electricity,  Sharky had to use his torch to find a decent and dry place to sit and catch his breath. 

He flashed the light down the tunnel, hoping to see the debris but it was too far away. The cult had blown them up the same night that the police tried to arrest Joseph . It had been planned so perfectly. Joseph knew he’d walk away unscathed and while the force was occupied, the  Peggies worked together to cut Hope County off the map. All the cell towers, the electric cables, the roads-  Sharky hadn’t realised what had happened until the next day when he heard guns firing.

\---

** 8 months before the Collapse  **

Sharky’s head was pounding, like there was a jackhammer pressed right against his temple. With a groan, he turned his face deeper into the pillow but only managed to suffocate himself. Gulping for air after a long minute,  Sharky forced himself to lie on his side. He blinked lazily, wincing when the breeze of his open window moved the curtain and the bright sun shone right in his face.

It was too fucking early. Even if the clock on the wall read 12.05 and the world outside Boshaw Manor was already awake for a long time. 

He wanted to get back to sleep but he had too much to do, too many things to fix or burn. There were crates outside he’d promised to give to the dog shelter in exchange for a look at the new puppies. The owner had sent photos and he had his eye on a cute Australian Shepherd with the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. But first, he had to get out  off the couch.

As soon as his legs moved and the threadbare blanket fell away, at least half a dozen cans of beer clattered down to the ground  like a rainstorm .  Sharky whimpered and cradled his head, wobbling to his feet as he guided himself to the bathroom. Hot water always helped his hangovers, along with a heavy serving of greasy diner food. If he could sort himself out enough to drive down to the 8-bit for some pepperoni pizza, that would be a good start to his day. His stomach rumbled in agreement as he turned the water on.

The stall filled up with steam quickly .  Sharky had slept in his boxers. Well, passed out is more accurate. He tossed them into the overflowing hamper beside the sink and stepped under the spray, already feeling the effects on his headache. Another way of curing hangovers was a rush of endorphins, and not the kind that came out of a needle. Hell no. 

He could already feel himself harden at the promise of jerking off, because it was like a weekly ritual when he got plastered every Friday night after work at the garage. He jerked off  almost  every day but Saturday mornings in the shower were a guarantee. Squeezing some gel into his palm, Sharky stroked the length of his cock and tightened his grip on the head, pushing his hips into his fist. 

He’d gotten laid... probably, around a month ago in some woman’s motel room. She’d been into some weird shit and  Sharky was glad she was just a tourist, because he did not want to suck toes ever again in his life. God, his boner almost died at the memory. 

Before that,  _ shit _ , it was too long since he’d fucked anyone. Didn’t help that he was either elbow deep inside an engine most of the week and spending what free time he had with  Hurk , getting high and burning shit in his yard. It was his property and it was contained, thank you very much Officers . At least his parole was over and he didn’t have to have those drop-in visits. But still, he wanted to get laid. Preferably by one Mrs  Drubman .

Yeah, that made his cock twitch. No amount of porn, human or cartoon, could get his heart beating so fast like the thought of finally getting in bed with Hope County’s sexiest cougar. He didn’t need to come up with long winded fantasies or focus extra hard on details, all he needed was to picture her perfect tits in that skimpy bikini she’d modelled in for the charity calendar. Of course, he’d sent an anonymous letter to her and the publisher thanking them for their service. 

She’d been told to relax on the shore of Silver Lake, lounging on a chair beneath the sun with a fishing pole beside her. Not that Addie had ever gone fishing in her life. Hunting with a rifle, sure, but she wasn’t one to sit around for hours hoping for a fish to bite. They’d all had a good laugh about it over dinner one night but  Sharky loved that photo. It was such a better quality that his own ones he snuck to take when he visited.

He wanted nothing more than to show her in  person what she did to him. How all those boy toys she dated meant nothing and how he could show her what she’d been missing. He was so fucking close, his hand moving fast over his cock until he couldn’t hold it off any longer.  Sharky came with a muffled whimper, biting into his arm and taking gulping breaths.

When he leaned back, he winced at the coldness of the tiles and forced himself to clean up properly. The hot water would run out soon anyways, the boiler had this old timer on it that didn’t work right. He’d fixed it a dozen times now , couldn’t afford a new one.

As  Sharky got dressed, he looked around for his car keys. The room was a mess from whatever the fuck he’d gotten up to last night. On his kitchen counter was a flyer for that church group. He’d looked into it briefly and got bored the second the pretty woman at the door had stated the rules. No drinking, no sex, no substances. Sharky was a man of enjoyment and relaxation. He’d go nuts in a place so uptight. Plus he didn’t believe in any man in the clouds. 

Balling up the flyer, he dunked it in the full trash can. It bounced off the edge and fell on the dirty carpet .  Sharky glared at it like it had personally insulted him , willing it to explode in flames, until he eventually placed it on top of the trash with a heavy sigh . As he turned away, he noticed a paper shoved halfway through his mailbox.

** _ Sinner _ **

Written i n bright red letters with the church’s weird cross as a signature at the bottom. He flipped it and someone had written a small message.

** _ It’s not too late to repent.  _ **

** _ We will save your soul before the Collapse.  _ **

** _ Walk with us through Eden’s Gate. _ **

“Yeah, no,” he mumbled to himself, adding the note to the trash and watching it land with a cheer. 

Even if Faith was smoking hot,  Sharky wouldn’t join them.  Hurk had given it a go, always one for new adventures, but even he’d backed out half a day into the experience. No one wanted to live like a monk. Well, except monks. 

His rumbling stomach cut through his thoughts, reminding him of his very important mission to get food. What he had in the fridge was either past the date or way too much effort. His head still hurt.

Grabbing his keys and his phone, he walked outside and wandered to his car. The 8-Bit was only  just down the road. He just hoped no cop stopped him along the way with a breathalyser. All that booze was bound to still be in his system.

As he pulled out onto the road, a horn blared out and a white truck sped up past  Sharky’s front bumper and almost scraped it off. Several men were sat on the back, all armed with rifles and watching  Sharky with such an intensity that he subconsciously gripped the wheel tighter and almost reversed back onto his property. 

Those church weirdos were always driving around but  Sharky had never been given such a look before. It was like they were ready to shoot him. No, that was ridiculous. They wouldn’t do that. They were a peaceful group.

Gulping, he took his foot off the brake and carried on turning onto the road. He fiddled idly with the radio but the usual stations wouldn’t work. He usually got his news on the way to work but all he got was a crackle and silence on the other stations. The only one that work was playing strange church songs the weirdos sometimes hummed. He switched that off immediately. Just another thing that needed fixing, one more for the endless list.

He finally reached the end of his journey and pulled into the tiny parking space in front of the pizza bar. The lot was empty so that only meant more peace and quiet for him. He walked up to the door and pulled the handle, only for the door to stay firmly shut.

The little sign in the window said closed. 

“Aw, shit, seriously?” 

Sharky exhaled loudly and knocked on the door. There was no answer. When he walked around  back where the cooks had their smoke breaks, it was empty. 

The 8-Bit was never closed. Not at lunchtime at least. Some drove all the way from town on their lunchbreaks just to get some good ‘za. It was bad for business to be shut, and it was bad for  Sharky’s ever growing hunger. He didn’t want to drive all the way to town, not when the Spread was shut  until the evening  and he really didn’t want to spend his hard-earned cash on overpriced snacks at the general store.

Shit, he’d just have to order pizza and hope it wouldn’t cost too much. 

He pulled out his phone, grateful that there was still 12% battery, and loaded up his browser. Except he didn’t have any internet. Kicking at the gravel, he groaned. That bill was paid every month, he should have all his data. The one at his house wasn’t paid for, though. He was late on that one and the landline. And the gas.

Maybe  Hurk would be kind enough to let him stay round for lunch. Dialling up his cousin,  Sharky climbed back into his car and started up the engine. It took a while for  Hurk to pick up. He was probably still asleep or just getting up.

“Sup, dude?”

“Hey,  Hurk , is it alright if I come by? I’m dying on my own here.”

“Yeah, sure. Dad’s out fishing so we can chill out. I’ll get the beer ready.”

Sharky smiled to himself. “And some grub too.”

Hurk’s chuckled crackled through the connection, grating  Sharky’s ear a bit. “No  problemo , amigo. Catch you soon, man.”

“Yeah, see  ya in a bit.”

Sharky hung up and slumped back against the seat. At least he could always count on  Hurk . Out of everyone in his life, his cousin was always there for him. Wel l , unless he was abroad for months on end. But he always brought something cool back with him. 

Now he just had to get his exhausted, hungover self over to the  Drubman’s house. That couldn’t be so difficult, right?

\---

There was an unusual amount of church weirdos on the road as  Sharky drove down the hills towards the bridge. He could take the roads up to the Fort in his sleep but he found himself taking the quieter dirt roads that lined the river instead of his normal route. It took longer but he was getting tired of all those white trucks trying to run him off the road. He didn’t like how many had guns either. It seemed like every man and woman had at least one automatic rifle, even though the law only permitted the basic weapons sold in Walmart. 

That was not Walmart licensed weaponry. Whatever the fuck was going on, he wanted no part of it. His parole had just come to an end and he really didn’t want to end up in prison again. The Sheriff was probably sick of his face by now, arresting him yearly like a damn curse.

The bridge was just up ahead, clear of trucks and speeding cars. But  Sharky was frozen in  place, car stopped just before the wooden planks and metal supports.

A body hung from the arches of the bridge, arms spread wide like a mock Jesus.  Sharky couldn’t see their face under the bag but there was too much blood. 

It had to be fake. A tease just before Halloween, even if it was a month and a half away. It couldn’t really be a real body. 

Sharky slowly rolled the car forwards onto the bridge and his stomach began twisting in knots as blood dripped down onto the windscreen. It had to be fake, it had to be. No one could do that to a person. 

He drove the whole way to  Hurk’s in absolute silence, watching with watery eyes as the wipers smudged the blood when he tried to clean it away. As he reached the driveway down to the Fort, he heard deafening gunfire from where he’d just been. 

It came from the mill. 

He’d seen white trucks parked by the gates and more guns than he could count. Glancing in the  rearview , he saw nothing but trees and rocks obscuring the mill. But there was nowhere else those shots could’ve come from.

Sharky was so distracted he yelped as he bumped into the nearest parked car by the garage. The alarm went off instantly and  Sharky felt his veins turn to ice. He sat frozen in his seat, hands gripping the wheel tightly and eyes fixed on the mirror , and didn’t notice  Hurk jogging out the house to turn the alarm off.

“ Yo , dude, the fuck  are you doing?” He complained, knocking on  Sharky’s window. When he saw the red smudges, he winced. “ D’you hit a deer or something? Sharks?”

Sharky blinked and turned the engine off, carefully getting out the car only for  Hurk’s arm to land across his shoulders.  In a quiet voice, he asked,  “Did you hear those guns?”

Hurk shrugged. “It’s hunting season.  There’s tons of guns. Come on, chill inside with me. I warmed up some hot pockets, you know the ones with the sauce and the-”

Sharky zoned out as  Hurk led him inside, his eyes always looking towards the mill even as  Hurk shut the door and patted his back heavily. It was dead quiet now.  The shooting was over. 

He made his way over to the worn couch and fisted his hand in the soft woollen blanket draped over the leather arm.  Hurk carried over two plates, balancing beer bottles under his arm, and set them on the coffee table. As he sat down, he reached for the remote and flicked on whatever channel came up. 

“No signal?”  Hurk complained with a groan, dragging  Sharky back to attention. “Goddammit, we just had the cable guy last week. Aw shit, Pops won’t be happy ‘bout this.  F uck it, I’m just gonna put on a film. Hey, Sharks, how’s your wi-fi?”

“What? Oh, it won’t connect.”

“Mine neither. Ugh, I was trying to load up that video I sent you yesterday, you know the one on Pornhub with the blonde and those eggs \- and I just couldn’t. Couldn’t open any fucking apps either. I ain’t even been back two months and the wi-fi's already shittier here than Yemen. God dammit.”

Hurk stood and flicked through his  dvd collection, mumbling no’s as he went through the many movies he’d accumulated on the shelves either side of the enormous  flatscreen . Despite all his grumbling,  Sharky heard the sound of tyres on gravel outside.

“Hurk...”

“I’m trying to find something at least half decent. Just gimme a minute!”

Forcing himself to his feet,  Sharky grabbed his cousin’s shoulder. “Hurk, there’s someone outside.”

“It’s probably just the old man. Told you he went fishing. Probably caught shit all and he’s pissed off.”

“No,  Hurk , you don’t get it. There were people out by the mill, those religious guys with the cross- And I heard them shooting up the mill. And on the way here, there was a dead guy hanging from the bridge!”  Sharky’s eyes began to sting as they watered but  Hurk only scoffed and shrugged his hand off .

“Oh Jesus, will you calm down? Did you have some of  Tweak’s new brew or somethin’?”

A knock landed heavily on the door, startling  Sharky into edging behind  Hurk for safety. His cousin only sighed and went to answer the door.

“No, Hurk! Don’t open it!”

Hurk glanced back at  Sharky and shook his head. “Man, I thought you were cool.” He opened the door, blocking most of the view, but the white truck in the yard  through the window  sent  Sharky’s stomach up into his throat. “ Heya , can I help you?”

“That depends on one thing,” the man at the door replied, resting his rifle against his shoulder. “Will you join the Father?”

“The whut-”

“Yeah, of course we will!”  Sharky interrupted, stepping into the small gap beside Hurk . He counted three other men in the yard, some having a noisy peek near the garage. “We were actually planning to head over to Faith. She invited us over, you know, to initiate us properly.”

“We were?”  Hurk asked dumbly, raising a brow.

“We were! Right after lunch, remember?” Out of the man’s sight,  Sharky nudged  Hurk’s side, begging him to play along. 

“Oh, yeah sure. Right. With Faith.  Gotta love that lady, she’s just so great and... uh, great.”

The man lowered his rifle into both hands, finger rested just above the trigger guard. The ones in the yard came back and  Hurk saw what definitely was not ketchup splattered on one of them. 

Noting the  change in Hurk’s eyes, the man took a step closer. “We’re doing the Father’s will. Making sure all the sinners are eradicated before the Collapse. I hope to see you boys soon.”

Hurk gulped. “Yeah, yeah, you too.”

He held the man’s eyes for a moment, sweating insanely under the scrutinising glare, until the man finally stepped back and down off the porch. He whistled for the others to get back to the truck but as they reached it, gunfire came from the driveway and the men were shot dead. 

“Holy shit!”  Hurk exclaimed, stumbling back into  Sharky as they both tried to retreat into the house.

The one on the porch whirled around to defend himself but a couple bullets tore through his head. He slumped in a pile, blood soaking the wood and his eyes wide open.

“Get  yer asses out here! Help me clean this fucking mess!” The shooter yelled.

“Pops?”

Reluctantly,  Hurk crept out of safety and glanced up at his dad. There was blood across his shirt and face, and he held an assault rifle tightly in his bloody grip.  Hurk Senior was not an emotional man, except for his daily bouts of rage, but his eyes showed just how grateful he was to see his son alive.

“Come on, we  gotta dump the bodies. I don’t want ‘ em rotting in my yard.”

“Pops, what’s going on?”  Hurk made no move to help and  Sharky was even less willing to step out of the doorway. He was fixated on the corpse blocking his exit.

“Hope’s gone to shit. Give me a hand already!”

“I’m  gonna need more than that! Pops, you just killed four people!”

Senior sighed and stopped trying to drag one of the bodies towards the back of the white truck. He cracked his back and marched over to the porch, stepping over a body on his way.

“It’s about ten right now and it’s only  gonna get worse. Now, you’ve been in  civil  wars before, son. You remember what you told me about that Kyrat place?”

Hurk looked down at his hands and started  wringing them nervously. “I had to help fight the bad guys. Is that... Are they bad people?” He nodded towards the nearest body but couldn’t look for long.

“The worst. Look, you and Charlemagne, you have to fight these assholes. They've taken over the county. Phone lines, radios, satellites. You name it, it’s either destroyed or they’re guarding it.”

Sharky stumbled closer, leaning against  Hurk’s large arm for support. “Can’t we tell the cops?”

Senior shook his head and removed his cap, swatting the dried flakes of blood away. “ Ain’t no cops anymore, son. Mary May said they tried to arrest the Seeds last night and it all went to shit. They’ve either been captured or killed. There’s no backup coming, boys. It’s us versus them.” He shoved his cap back on and looked around the yard. “So grab a body and put it on the truck. I’ll drive it into the lake.”

“You want us to just kill them? They’re people!”  Sharky argued. 

“ It don’t matter . They’ve already gone and taken the town and our resources and killed anybody in their way. Look, they will kill you both without hesitation. You have to fight back or you’ll die. It’s just that simple, son.”

“That’s not simple.”

“Son, you  ain’t no saint. We’ve all got a kill count here. But the more  Peggies we kill, the sooner we’ll get this fight over and done with. Now, for the love of God, help me carry these damn bastards into the fucking truck!”

Eventually  Sharky helped drag the bodies with  Hurk’s help, and he watched with a sinking stomach as Senior drove off with them. He didn’t have a fucking clue what was really going on or why, but  Hurk was heading to the gun cabinet and he needed to arm himself. Without the cops, it was up to them and  Sharky really didn’t like that plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	3. Isolation

Food was  Sharky’s main concern as he trekked beside the small road, dead trees overhanging above him like a tunnel of creaking branches. His stomach ached with hunger, clawing it him painfully. He severely regretted not bringing more supplies but all he could do now was search for it.

Hope was a good hour and a half behind him when the sight of roofs and billboards blessed his eyes. It was just a tiny cluster of houses off the side of the road, sat on a gentle slope and wrapped by a tall hedge. Just a small retirement estate for those who wanted a lovely view of the mountains before death came knocking. 

He headed up to the metal gates, one of them bent out of shape like a car had rammed it, with an old chain pooled on the dirt. Although greenery had returned to Hope, this area had not been as sheltered and there was no river to stop the fire from spreading. The trees stood like ashy toothpicks and the grass was nothing but dust, stirred up by the weak breeze as he walked to the nearest house and stepped over the remains of the wooden door .

The interior was mostly untouched, a thin layer of dust on everything, but the house had survived most of the fire. The bricks were stained with soot and the windows half broken and shattered on the wrecked porch. The kitchen was his only goal for the moment even if everything from the photographs to the trinkets on the mantle were distracting.

The cupboards were mostly filled with prescription bottles and whatever the old folks here needed to keep them going. He grabbed some of the stronger painkillers, shoving them into his bag hastily as if he feared someone would come down the stairs and call the cops. There was food, much to  Sharky’s instant relief. 

Cans of soup and vegetables, crackers still sealed in foil, and bars of chocolate that were just a month over the expiry date.  Sharky had read somewhere that didn’t really matter and it wasn’t like he had a calendar on him to check the exact date. It dawned on him that he could’ve had, if only he’d thought to save his phone. He almost slapped himself for it but eating was more important.

Ripping open the crackers, he devoured them until his mouth was too dry and his stomach gurgled at the sudden influx of contents. There was water in the fridge, bottles still sealed, and he gulped one down without stopping to breathe. And he choked and spluttered. Coughing, he closed the lid and forced himself to sit on the nearest chair. That was dumb, even if his body had been begging for water since yesterday.

It took him a minute to adjust, his face red from the coughing fit, before he stood up again and decided to wander around the house. Whoever had lived here had truly settled in for their last days. Photos of  family members  hung on every wall of the small house and it seemed like a lifetime was packed onto the shelves and corner tables, all sat cosily on hand-crocheted doilies. As  Sharky headed upstairs, he wondered whether he’d ever have something like this.

He owned fuck all and the only people in his life had all left in some way, some much further away than others. There was nothing to his name, no big achievements he could brag about.  Sharky was willing to bet that no one would’ve noticed if he’d just up and died one day. Well, maybe  Hurk would’ve been upset for a bit but he would’ve moved on. And now, there really was no one who would notice.

Rook had no clue where he’d gone,  Hurk was lost to the wind same as Adelaide and Senior, and the Seeds wanted nothing to do with him. How would any of them know if he died somewhere back on that mountain? Skull cracked open ‘ cus he slipped on loose rocks, or frozen to death ‘ cus he couldn’t start a fire. It was for the best that he hadn’t shot himself at the trailer park, not for  Hurk’s sake but for Rook’s, because the Deputy would surely search for him there. That was probably one of his first places to check.

Sharky really didn’t want to think about Rook miserably yelling his name or searching high and low for him. He was gone and that was the end of it. He’d probably never see Rook ever again.

Tears sprang to his eyes before he could stop them and his legs buckled, forcing him to sit down on the top of the stairs and just cry for the millionth time since he’d fucked up. He deserved all of this. Rook didn’t, though, and  Sharky only felt worse knowing that his best friend was out there in a panic. There was no doubt in his mind about that. No matter what stupid, self-hating thoughts ran through his head, he knew Rook better than anyone else still alive.

When he left the first house, he made sure to grab a second bag to store any extra food he could find. He needed clothes and blankets, and anything that might make his survival easier, but the grandma who’d lived here certainly didn’t own any tents or  firestarters . It was unlikely he’d find any here at all, but there were five more houses and an office to check before he moved on.

He spent the entire morning and most of the afternoon meticulously searching through the estate, filling up his bags with cans and water and pills.  Sharky played enough video games to know what was wor th looting, he considered himself a pro- but that was virtual, and reality didn’t prepare him to find a corpse in one of the houses.

No matter how many  Peggies he’d killed, death still turned his stomach. Especially the smell of the body decomposing in the bed upstairs. He noticed the lifting equipment beside it and realised with a sinking heart that they had been left behind when the estate had been evacuated. Unable to get out of the bed by themselves, they’d died there.  Sharky felt sick as he went through the closet and drawers and he ran outside to vomit.

The cold breeze was helping with the nausea and  Sharky took deep, gulping breaths to ease his nerves. When he went back inside to fetch his bags, he didn’t dare glance back up the stairs. He just grabbed his stuff and left.

The office was the last building left, a fountain built just in front. Snow had melted inside the basin and dead leaves floated on the dirty water. The door was locked but  Sharky had no qualms smashing the window and climbing carefully over the frame. Glass crunched under his boots noisily as he made his way over to the main desk and started checking every drawer. It was mostly medical files and boring paperwork, but tucked inside one of the desk drawers of the manager’s room was a phone. 

He turned it on and cheered as the logos flashed with a little tune, the main screen coming up without any locks or passwords. Fifty percent battery . 14:50. Tues, 19 February . 

The date felt like a slap to the face because for all the chaos and the death, the world was still going and he’d really not realised that March was almost there. He’d spent so much of that time underground that he’d lost track, days didn’t really matter when there was no indication of a day cycle. He wasn’t out there counting each day like a tally mark. 

He pocketed the phone and gathered his things. There was still enough daylight left to start heading further out, wherever that would be. Before he left the office, he grabbed a local map and shoved it into his bag. There was nothing left worth exploring and he really didn’t want to stay the night.

\---

Sharky had never quite realised just how isolated Hope County had truly been. The times he’d gone out to other towns, he’d been in his car and the journey was much quicker. There were no small towns or villages, not even hunting lodges for the rich. Just a couple gas stations and the occasional lone house. Joseph Seed had truly picked the best place to settle the cult, there was nothing around to stop them. The nearest proper town, not just a cluster of houses and a store, was Missoula and that was a couple hours away by car.

It was worth a try. He’d certainly find more supplies there, maybe even a vehicle if he was really lucky, and then he could think about where  Hurk might go. But first, he had to get himself prepared. There was no point running out to Helena or Butte with nothing but a couple cans of soup. 

He stopped at a gas station by the roadside for the night, darkness making it impossible to see much further ahead, and he wasn’t going to use the phone to light his way. 

The doorbell jingled as he walked in and his eyes grew wide at the sight of stocked shelves. No one had come to loot it. All the candy and snacks were still sealed and it was very easy for him to barricade the entrance so he could sleep safely. Even if he hadn’t seen another soul since Hope, that didn’t mean he trusted the peace and quiet to be free of raiders or looters. It wasn’t like he was expecting a gang of tough, spike-armour-wearing thugs to pull up but still... He shoved a display shelf against the door and made sure the staff exit was free in case he needed to run.

With his blankets all spread out and more than enough food to fill his stomach happily,  Sharky laid back against his rucksack pillow  behind the counter  and flicked through the pages of magazines with the help of an electric lantern. There were a few useful bits he’d picked up from this station and the last, little survival things someone might need while out camping in the forests surrounding him. It wasn’t much, just batteries, torches, and lighters, and bug spray- but it was a great start. 

His day was only getting better as he reached up the magazine shelves for the porn collections. It wasn’t bound to be the kinkiest shit he loved but it had been nearly a whole year since he’d looked at boobs, let alone fucked anyone. He didn’t hold anything against John but if only they’d messed around, just a little. It’s not like he’d never sucked a dick before, even if there was a particular one he lusted after more than any other. Hell, he’d agree to fuck just about anyone at this point. His hand could only go so far and he’d never been one to dip into adult stores for something extra. Every time he tried to, he got too nervous and backed out.  Sharky knew it was stupid, that there were people out there who bought much dirtier stuff than a  fleshlight or a dildo but it felt like the employees were judging him so he left without buying anything. And with the amounts of times he got arrested and paroled, he couldn’t have packages delivered to his house- not without his PO checking the contents and if  _ that  _ happened, he might as well just end up back in prison so he never had to look the man in the eyes again.

He ended up with every single magazine on that infamous top shelf beside him as he flicked through, each page covered in pretty tame ladies flashing the occasional nipple or panties. Nothing like what his search history contained, for one it wasn’t drawn. At least the PO couldn’t look through his computer, even if he cleaned it every night, because there was no explaining to an old man with grandkids why  Sharky preferred the animated stuff with  furries . He’d probably give the man a heart-attack, and himself one for ever getting caught. Not that he was complaining about the porn in his hands, but as much as his dick got hard, it wasn’t the same skip in his heartbeat porn that really made him horny.

It was a good distraction t hough . If he was staring at a pussy getting rammed, he wasn’t thinking about Rook getting rammed. But the lingering picture was in his head. It didn’t help that the next photoset had a lovely brunette taking it from the back and it was easy to imagine it was Rook, even if the body shape was too petite and delicate. It  _ really  _ didn’t help to remind himself of all the nights he’d spent curled up against his best friend, sometimes dick to ass, and never having done anything. He regretted it so much, not using the precious time he had with Rook- even way before the bombs- to fuck the life out of him. 

And that was his casual, half-horny perusing over. 

He tried hard not to feel guilty or gross as he unzipped his dirty jeans and pulled his cock out. So what if he’d jerked off to Rook so many times he almost rivalled his attraction to Adelaide? Well, it was close. He’d definitely rubbed one out to his aunt- by marriage- more than three times a day when he was in his late-teens. Ever since he’d seen Rook a couple years back, bright-eyed and new to the police force, Rook had been the centre of his attention. 

The first time was only briefly during an obligatory chat with the Sheriff about his parole ending. With the prison so close, the police were best buds with the guards and prisoners often came to Whitehorse to deal with adjusting back to normal life. Rook had been chatting with Pratt near the coffee machine during their morning shift, Rook looked fresh while Pratt was half-awake and hungover.  Sharky had barely caught more than a couple glances but he’d been smitten. 

It had fuelled him to go to the annual police charity event they hosted by the baseball park.  Hurk had come along for the beer and free food since  Sharky paid for his entrance ticket, and  Sharky had sat and watched as Rook took part in most of the sporting events. It had been a hot summer day and it was inevitable that the men take off their shirts, and  Sharky had been counting on it.  Stealthing was a skill he’d learned in his many ventures to prison, because being surrounded by men all the time was a fantasy he’d repressed hard and there was no way he was going to be caught with a boner in the showers when half the guys could crush his skull for it. 

So he’d sat carefully, with his hoodie in his lap, as Rook yanked his sweaty t-shirt off, his messy hair falling out of the tiny ponytail and into his eyes, and he’d committed the sight to his memory. It was so gross, he’d thought at the time, observing this guy who had no clue he was  gonna be jerk off to later that day when  Sharky pulled his car over in the trees for privacy. It was a good thing Rook didn’t know about it to this day.  Hurk didn’t know either.

A week had probably passed since he last jerked off so the feeling was intense and he didn’t need much to make himself cum. In a desperate attempt to save himself from orgasming to Rook, he grabbed the magazine labelled with a black XXX in the corner and repeat age warnings. It was dirtier than the others, better than the basic strip teases, and he slowed his hand to focus more. He groaned at the sight a woman spreading her legs, a man still close to her, and his cum dripping off her pussy. The man was poised like he was about to thrust back in and  Sharky tried to picture it happening, not just the crappy still image. He was on the edge, working the wet head of his cock faster, but no matter how many pussies and blowjobs and cum-soaked tits he looked at, it wasn’t enough. 

He groaned and sighed, letting go of his cock just to take a pause. Maybe it was too much all at once, his cock oversensitive or something- but he knew deep down that wasn’t the cause.  Sharky stared down at his cock and exhaled loudly.

“You’re really  gonna make me do this, huh? Thought you were on my side,” he complained as he laid back down on his back and ignored the magazines. He grabbed the length and gave it a weak squeeze, moaning softly as it twitched and set his nerves alight with pleasure. He was rock hard, erection never flagging and he knew there was nothing else that would get him off. Not even picturing his aunt in all those photos.

So he thought of Rook. 

Innocent little thoughts at first, testing the waters hoping he would finish quick on something like Rook’s arms or his defined back. Then it was the memories of having the man so damn close to him, feeling his ass pressed back into  Sharky’s hips as they slept in empty cabins hidden away from the  Peggies . Or how he sometimes woke up with  Rook’s erection against his thigh, the Deputy fast asleep and gently rolling into  Sharky.

It wasn’t innocent, not at all, but it wasn’t quite the jump to the kinkier stuff he wanted to try. Precum leaked down his fingers as he sped up, filling the air with tiny little moans he was used to muffling when around others.  Sharky always did like being loud when he got the chance. 

Pretending Rook was beside him, he closed his eyes and tried to remember the time Rook had faced him in his sleep. He’d never forget the rush of the man’s cock against him but instead of letting the past take place, he reached down between them both and cupped Rook. The Deputy was still sleeping peacefully, his soft lips parted and looking downright kissable, and he let out little huffs as  Sharky stroked his cock through his jeans. Rook’s eyes fluttered open gently, his cheeks growing red as he realised where the pleasure was coming from and he subtly spread his legs, hooking one  over Sharky’s hips. Sleepily , he climbed on top of the pyro and unzipped his jeans, the head of his cock peeking out beneath the waistband of his boxers, and Sharky grabbed his hips, steadying him as Rook grinded his cock against  Sharky’s . 

Back in reality,  Sharky was so, so close. He could feel the rise of pleasure and he forced himself to focus, rather than lose himself to the pleasure.

Rook sat up a bit, suddenly shirtless with his hair loosely bouncing as he moved. He straightened up, hands splayed on  Sharky’s chest as he cried out and moaned, grinding desperately as the pyro looked down at his cock, seeing him cum with the sweetest sounds. In his mind’s eye, he saw his best friend sat up in his lap,  cumming with the same intensity but with  Sharky’s cock filling his ass.

It was too much to handle, his orgasm almost punching the air out of his lungs as he came harder than he had in months.  Sharky blacked out for a minute or two, and when he woke up, he pretended that Rook was still bouncing in his lap, milking the last drops before he climbed off and curled up against  Sharky . That was by far one of the best fantasies he’d ever come up with and he barely wiped the cum off his hand before switching off the light, not even looking to his side where Rook definitely was not lying. 


End file.
